


All Over

by Morgana



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 13:12:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was hard to believe that it was really all over</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Over

Sometimes it was hard to believe that it really was all over. Or at least, mostly. She wasn't the only one now, wasn't the single girl with a secret, struggling to save the world and still make it to work on time. There were others like her, lots of others, and she didn't have to go out hunting alone anymore. She had a beautiful apartment that she shared with her sister in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, an almost unlimited allowance for shoes and clothes, and the most sought-after hottie in Rome for a boyfriend. Well, potential boyfriend, anyway. She hadn't said yes yet.  
  
She couldn't. Oh, she'd thought about it, even been tempted, but anytime she'd come close to actually saying the words, she'd see a golden shaft of light coming through the window, or hear a man's low laughter from the next room, and her chest would tighten until she was left gasping for air. Panic attacks, Giles called them, but Buffy knew better. It wasn't panic that left her breathless and light-headed, but pain, the kind of deep, unrelenting pain that only accompanied death.  
  
Death. It seemed like she'd been dealing in it for her whole life, like everything before she'd become the Slayer had just been practice for what came after it. Ever since she was fifteen, she'd been surrounded by death - in the cemeteries where she patrolled, the newspapers that told her which graves to watch, the fear in her family's and friends' eyes, and later, the mausoleum that her lover called home. Her dead lover. Wasn't that what The First had called him? It hadn't been wrong, and she remembered when she would've been repulsed to hear that, to be reminded of what he really was.  
  
That didn't seem to matter anymore. William had died long before she'd been born, but he'd been one of the most alive people she'd known all the same. Spike once told her that it took death to bring him to life, and she got it, because once upon a time it had taken life to nearly kill her. She got a lot of things now that she'd quit fighting against who - and what - she was, and she wished she could tell him, wished she could share these new thoughts with the one who'd appreciate them most.  
  
But he was gone, set ablaze in a rush of golden light, and while a part of her wanted to turn away from the sunlight and live her life in darkness as a tribute to his memory, she knew he wouldn't want that. He'd hate it, actually. Well, mostly - she knew he was vain enough to enjoy the thought of it, but he'd never been able to stand by and watch her hurt without trying to make it better, and that was the part she knew had to be eating at him, wherever he'd found himself, the inability to take her pain away. She told herself that was why he'd refused her and sent her away in those last moments, that he'd rather have her angry with him than missing him, and most of the time she believed it.  
  
Not that it made things any easier. She still didn't have Spike, didn't have his strength to back her up on patrol or his unwavering belief in her to shore her up when she was scared. There was more to it than just missing him, though. She missed all of them. Dawn had thrown herself headfirst into shopping and clubbing with the cute Italian boys, learning the language in just a few months, while Willow and Kennedy - and really, how in the world did Wills think she could move on from Tara to _her?_ \- were living it up in Rio, and Xander just... left. Not that she blamed him - he needed his space, was probably struggling with his own grief, so when Giles asked, Buffy said to leave him alone. He'd come back, or he wouldn't, and either way she hoped he'd find the peace he needed.  
  
They'd moved on, she supposed, the way she'd heard high school friends tended to do. Sure, they were all still connected through the Watcher's Council, they exchanged emails and phone calls, but it wasn't the same. They were scattered now, no longer the tightly knit group they'd once been, sharing movies, snacks, crushes, and heartbreaks, and it hurt to think that they'd lost that. Worst of all, nobody but Buffy seemed to notice - or else, nobody but her cared, because their letters were always full of excitement at new things and people, assuming she was delighted with her new life as well, although she supposed that was her own fault. She'd been the one to pick Rome, after all, citing shoes and shopping and glamour as her reasons, never telling anyone it was because London had been unthinkable. Too many memories there, too many familiar accents that were never the right one, and if Giles suspected, at least he hadn't said anything.  
  
Buffy told herself that it would be all right. One day she'd wake up, and thoughts of Spike wouldn't hurt anymore. She'd say yes to Marc, put it all behind her, and move on, the way the others had. She just hoped 'one day' hurried up and got here, because waiting for it sucked.


End file.
